Reflection
by MinorChords
Summary: I couldn’t see his face but I knew there were tears falling down his cheeks because there were ones falling down mine. JATE ONESHOT...READ AND REVIEW


A/N: Okay, I was searching through my computer today and I found this! I had written it a while back, so it may not be my best work. In case you haven't noticed, I'm really into the one-shot JATE moment sort of fics, so this follows the same basic idea. Losing My Religion will be getting another chapter pretty soon, (just have to settle a few more things and get the timing right).

A/N: Okay, in my Fic Kate knows about Henry before the Losties discover his true identity! (Different from the show since Kate finds out about Henry when Sayid reveals that he isn't "Henry Gale" ) Please REVIEW...constructive criticism always welcomed (but please be nice)

In Kate's point of view

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own LOST or any of its characters (but if anyone sees it on ebay, let me know:-)

_Reflections_

_By MinorChords_

"_Under all speech that is good for anything there lies a silence that is better. Silence is deep as Eternity; speech is shallow as Time._

_-Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881)_

The minute I said it I wish that I could take it back…."_Damaged goods"….I said, staring him straight in the eye. "Both of us"._ I saw the look he gave me. There was something in his eyes, so faint that it was barely visible, yet recognizable. It was the same one I had given him that day we opened the Halliburton case, when he asked me about Tom's plane, before I let the tears blur my vision and my throat tighten, causing my voice to become unstable and crack. _It belonged to the man I loved_

I remember when I heard the same break in his voice.

_I'm sorry_, I said, as we walked through the jungle, having just encountered the others. I almost listened to him and pondered just staying and 'pushing the button' as he, Locke, and Sawyer (who was in no condition to go) wondered in a determined manner after the newly returned Michael. The man had just snapped, stolen a gun and ran out of the hatch in search of his son.

….The little voice in my head told me to just listen to him. But then again, when was the last time I listened to it, to him, _to anybody._

"_Yea….me too."_ He said.That's when I regretted not taking a few more minutes to make my decision. I had always been the type of person who thought about the consequences after the fact. Looking into his eyes, I regret not listening to him. And it puts me on the edge to know that he can make me feel that way. Only one other person had made me regret what I had done. Not Wayne, not my mother, or even the marshal. It was Tom.

I used to try not to let myself think about him too much, burying in other things. Picking fruit, helping Sayid fix things, babysitting Aaron once in a while, and sitting in the hatch staring at that damn timer, making sure that it never got to zero.

My routine didn't help me when night fell, and everyone retired to their makeshift tents, each seeking a sense of oblivion, even if it was only in their dreams. There was nothing that needed to be done when the moon settled in its place amongst the stars. It was in these moments that I found myself dwelling on what I had avoided all day. It was when I closed my eyes and searched for my own temporary contentness that his face popped into my head invading my dreams.

It wasn't always of the way he looked in the car, blood soaking through his shirt. Sometimes, he'd come to me through a childhood memory, or a teenage faze. His face would of course be different, containing a source of innocence and curiosity that outgrows us all, but there was something that was always there. In his eyes there would be the same person looking back at me. The strong, funny, sometimes forgetful, yet incredibly sweet Tom; the same person who put always put others before himself. No matter his age, or state of mind, I could always see the same Tom I had grown up with.

In between the nights that he took hold of my subconscious, another face would occasionally come to mind: _Sawyer_. It sometimes took me by surprise when I would wake up and have his face stuck somewhere in the back of my mind. Whether it was the image of him tied to a tree, or that look he gave me from time to time, revealing his true feelings (something he had done more often as the days swept by), there was always the same look in his eyes. The same cocky, smart-ass, yet surprisingly sweet Sawyer was always looking back at me. He reminds me of Tom in that way.

Now, as I watch the sun making its way below the horizon, I know that tonight won't be as simple as it used to be. It was the same last night, and the night before, and the one before that, except it had only gotten worse after I kissed him, after I was almost taken by the others, and even more with each day that passed. Now it wasn't only the tender moments or honest laughter we shared that flooded through my dreams, night after night. It was the feel of his lips against mine, his hands molding against my back, mine securing along his face, that engulfed my mind. I could almost feel as if he was really there.

The look he gave me after I pulled apart from our kiss is one that I wake up with each morning burned along the inside of my eyelids. It was different from the faces of Tom and Sawyer's that used to flutter through my mind. Sure, I saw a few of the same things I saw in them both; Tom's giving heart, Sawyer's revealing looks. But as I gazed at him through the passion that had enflamed me, I saw something I recognized; something I had seen in me. Though it was accompanied by a few trademarks that were only his, I saw it, stronger than when I had confessed the truth about the small toy plane; the same stubbornness, compassion, and insecurity. It was the fear mirrored that had me stumbling backwards, out of his embrace, into the jungle we find ourselves knowing less and less about each day.

I told him that I was sorry that I kissed him. I kept telling myself it was easier this way; it wasn't the right time or place for something such as this. Then again, does love really have a time? _Love_. I didn't notice that I held my breath at the thought. _Jack?_ I felt a fire begin deep within me at the thought, and new that if I stayed in this spot another moment it would consume me entirely.I stood up and started to walk towards the shore not even bothering to wipe the sand off my clothes. What was the point anyway?

I let the cold salt water sway over my feet as the waves came crashing ashore and began to sink. Maybe sinking off the island wasn't so bad after all.

My eyes were closed and I was trying to enjoy the feel of the water as the ocean played tug of war with the sand, when I felt his presence. I think he was surprised that I didn't startle when he spoke.

"You've got a plan B?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" I said still not opening my eyes, because if I did, then I'd have to look at him. I wasn't sure if I could handle that considering what my mind was just dwelling on.

"You know, just in case this sinking off the island thing doesn't work out?" He joked. I knew he was smiling by the tone in his voice. It wasn't a huge grin, but a soft twist of his lips that sent my insides up in flames again; another reason why I couldn't open my eyes.

"Human sling shot," I countered. "Just haven't decided who's flexible enough to make it to Fiji: Charlie or Hurley. If that doesn't work maybe something involving a trapeze artist. "

I smiled as I heard him chuckle. I felt his deep chocolate eyes on me, burning my skin, with his soft gaze. It amazes me what he can do with those eyes. The little voice inside tells me to keep mine shut tight, but when do I ever listen, anyway?

I squinted as I swept my eyes over him. The intertwining colors the sun made at this hour went perfect with him, complimenting every mark, even the tattoo he refuses to comment about.

"How's the new guy?" I asked, my voice noticeably softer.

"Henry….he's," Jack looked passed me, searching for the right words. "I don't know, Kate. There's something about him that still has me wondering."

"So you don't believe Locke?" I asked.

"I want to," He said, "But something inside tells me otherwise."

"I know what you mean," I mumble to myself.

"Huh?" He asks. I was surprised that he even heard me at all.

"I just meant that….that…" I started to stumble on my words. "That no matter what you want to believe, you can't help what you feel inside." I paused and broke the gaze I had on the ocean and focused on him. "I mean….sometimes you don't know whether to follow your instinct or believe in what things…I mean people around y-you are saying is true." I held my breathe waiting for him to take in what I just said, wondering what it was myself, having been focused on his soft, genuine eyes. He stared at me for a moment and, though I thought it impossible, his gaze softened even more.

"Exactly" He said, in a voice almost softer than a whisper, still holding my gaze. He broke our mutual trance and sighed. "You know the first week we crashed, I would have never thought that things wouldl get this...complicated."

He looked at me after he said that, and I was almost certain that Henry and the others were the last thing on his mind. But the nagging voice inside me told me otherwise; the one I still refused to listen to.

"I wish we could go back," He continued, "to when our biggest problem was Rousseau...or…Locke with his case full of knives…." We both chuckled, remembering when Locke demonstrated by throwing a knife into an airline seat, just missing Sawyer.

"When Shannon was still alive," He stated, looking back at me briefly, "….and Boone."

I looked at him as he watched the sun continue to fade, already at its half-way mark.

"You can't do keep doing that Jack," I placed my hand on his arm, covering most of his tattoo. I felt a shock of electricity flow through my body at the innocent touch and knew he felt it too by the way he was looking at me. I took a deep breathe, trying to focus on what I was going to say. "You can't keep blaming yourself. It was his time."

There was a pause.

"I wonder if I could go back," He said, breaking the silence, "To when Johanna drowned, and Boone went after her…." He paused slightly, "If I had to choose to save Boone or Johanna, knowing that Boone would die, would I have chose differently? Maybe if I did, we'd have one of them still alive, instead of both dead."

"You reached Boone first," I reasoned. "It's not like you could have left him there to die. You had no choice but-"

"There's always a choice, Kate." He interrupted, staring at me, his eyes hardening a bit.

"People like to think like that, Jack." I said, my voice growing horse with something building up within me that I couldn't recognize. "That you can say no just as easily as you can say yes." I paused, breaking his gaze. I just couldn't look at him right now, not when I was dangerously close to exposing my vulnerability. "It's not always that simple."

There was another silence.

"And you can never go back," I said, my voice just above a whisper. I realized how long my hand was on his did some amazing things Jack. He led us to where we are now. Some of it may not be that great, but the things that are make up for it." I looked at him and was a bit shocked myself how easily I found to words.

"I know you have a problem letting go, Jack…but it's time. Just let it go," I said, never breaking his gaze. As he was facing his fear before me I found myself doing the same. I saw the fear in his eyes and was just about to leave him, when he spoke.

"You don't seem to do so," He said, never breaking away. "Don't tell me to let go, Kate, when you can't do the same." His voice was hard and his eyes were full of emotion. I saw the fear, the vulnerability, and couldn't take it anymore. I turned to walk away but barely got both feet out of the sand when he caught my wrist, softly but firm.

"Stop," he said. "I'm tired of you running away from me, Kate." His voice softened. "It's time to let go whatever it was that made you get like this. It doesn't matter anymore. We're here and like you said, you can never go back." He loosened his grip a bit and let his other hand tuck a hair that was flying in the wind behind my ear. I felt the fire within me start to get out of control, his gaze only make matters worse. My eyes began to water, but I refused to submit to them.

"Please," I said. I looked past him, my lip trembling a bit. I felt my throat hardening and my voice was now a whisper. "I just….I can't. You don't understand. It's not the same."

"Yes it is," He said, in a voice so soft and full of emotion that my knees almost gave in right then and there. "Please don't shut me out. I don't know why you always find that you have to protect yourself, Kate. You don't have to be that strong."

"The same goes for you," I said, barely audible, my vision becoming more blurry by the minute. He looked taken back that I turned the tables again. I sensed that we were both on the break of something. Our walls were deteriorating with each passing moment. I found my voice again.

"The only reason you need to fix people is because you don't want to fix yourself." I said. "You try to avoid what the real problem is by running away from it and searching for others'. You think that I always run away from everything and for the most part you're right." I paused, the anger building up inside of me. "But I'm not the only one. You do it too. I bet you always have even back home. You buried yourself in your work, fixing everything but the one thing that needed to be the most." I paused again as realization struck me hard to the core. "….and nobody has ever been able to call you on it, until now….and it scares you to know that I can see you in a way that nobody ever has. You think that you don't want to fix me because I don't need to be….but it's really because you see _yourself_ in me …." I lowered my voice. "Like how I see _myself_ in you."

He stood there, staring at me with those eyes, filled with shock, and disbelief, and something else that stood above all others: _Love. _He took both my hands in his and to my surprise he held them up to his lips and kissed them. There were tears in his eyes but I knew that it wasn't because he was sad. I softly took my hands out of his and gently wrapped them around his neck. The little voice in my head kept telling me that this wasn't such a good idea but the one in my heart, the one I hadn't heard from until now, overpowered it. I felt his hands on my waist and then on my back as we embraced. He wasn't hugging me that tight but I could feel his heart beat in time with mine. I couldn't see his face but I knew there were tears falling down his cheeks because there were ones falling down mine.

I used to believe that love, the kind that I was feeling right now, only existed in stories. When I was a little girl I dreamed of my Prince Charming, but never in a million years would have guessed that I would meet him like this. I never thought I would say this but I am so thankful for everyone and everything that has hurt me. Some may _say Damaged _Goods, but I, _we _weren't damaged by our past. Both of us are like two pieces of clay molded by the pain and suffering we have endured; molded to fit only each other.

"Please," He said in a whisper, "Don't ever leave me." He kissed the top of my head and I knew that he was afraid that all of this would slip away.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm not running anymore."

After all there was no reason to; I had found what I was searching for.

_Fin_


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